


going downtown.

by katarama



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Locker Room, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5161304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next time the words leave Jackson’s mouth, it’s intentional.</p><p>“Eat my ass, McCall."</p>
            </blockquote>





	going downtown.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Scackson Week! Enjoy part one of Alex and my Scott McCall Eats Everyone Out college AU 'verse.

When Jackson said, “Eat my ass, McCall,” he hadn’t meant anything different than when he told Lahey to go find McCall if he needed his dick and his ego stroked so bad, or when he told Stilinski he’d maybe be able to catch the ball in lacrosse if his hand wasn’t jammed down his pants all the time.  Jackson has never been polite or pc and is pretty okay with that.  

Jackson expected Scott to blow his comment off, or maybe to get annoyed back.  Things escalate between the two of them sometimes, Jackson taking satisfaction from the fact that he can rile Scott up when everyone else seems to act like the sun shines out of this dude’s ass, or that he’s unflappable.

What Jackson doesn’t expect is a casual, “You want that?”

“No,” Jackson says aggressively, loudly enough that someone finishing packing their stuff up on the other side of the locker room shoots him a confused glance.  “Why would I want that from _you_?”

Scott’s eyebrows shoot up, and Jackson wants to punch him in his obnoxious, smug face.  Jackson grasps and flounders for words that could appropriately convey how much he doesn’t want McCall, but Scott cuts him off before he can get himself worked up.

“Well, if you change your mind…”

Scott grabs his bag and pats Jackson on the shoulder before he heads off, leaving Jackson in a mostly empty locker room with a dick that’s chubbing up in his lacrosse shorts and an imagination that’s fixed on the image of Scott’s stupid mouth being put to better use.

While he showers, Jackson tries to convince himself that he’s only hard because of the adrenaline of the lacrosse game.  He can’t even manage to sell himself on it.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time the words leave Jackson’s mouth, it’s intentional.

“Eat my ass, McCall,” he says, expecting Scott to chicken out.  Jackson’s had some time to think, and he’s pretty sure the whole thing was just a power play in the first place, a chance to get Jackson off-balance and make him look like an idiot.  Jackson isn’t gonna let Scott have the last word, because once Jackson proves that Scott is full of shit and was just messing with him, then Jackson’s dreams will quit featuring Scott’s crooked jaw.

“Right here?” Scott asks.  

“Oh yeah,” Jackson drawls.  He’s going to push this as far as it will go until Scott finally breaks.  “Right here in the locker room.  No one else is here.”

Scott takes a step closer, close enough that Jackson could lean over and kiss him if he wanted  “I can’t eat you out with your clothes on,” he points out, and Jackson strips his shirt off.  Scott’s eyes follow the motion, lingering on Jackson’s puffy nipples.  Jackson steps out of his shorts and goes for his underwear, but Scott hesitates, reaching out his hand towards Jackson’s chest.

“Can I?” he asks gently.

“Pretty sure that’s not my ass,” Jackson says flippantly.

“I’d say it feels better when you’re already hard, but it looks like that’s not a problem,” Scott says, openly staring down at Jackson’s tight little briefs, at the bulge of Jackson’s dick.

“From the way you’re staring, I’d think you wanted that in your mouth, too,” Jackson says as he hooks his thumbs under the elastic of his briefs and tugs down, letting his dick bob free.

Scott doesn’t disagree.  He does close the gap between the two of them, though, and tilts his head down to kiss Jackson, all of Jackson’s words dying in his throat.  Jackson’s standing naked in the locker room, his clothes in a pile on the floor.  Anyone could walk in and see them, but Scott isn’t even kissing him urgently, is sucking Jackson’s bottom lip into his mouth and lingering like they have all the time in the world.  Jackson can feel Scott’s uneven stubble prickling against the sensitive skin around his mouth, not enough to make his whole face raw and red, but enough that it counters the almost sweetness of the kiss.

Jackson can feel Scott’s dick through the thin fabric of Scott’s shorts, can feel that Scott is just as hard as he is.  It’s satisfying, knowing he’s not the only one affected by this.

Scott sneaks his hand towards Jackson’s nip, tugging with his finger and his thumb, and Jackson pulls away.

“You okay?” Scott asks.  “You do want to do this, right?”

“What, you wanna back out now?” is what leaves Jackson’s mouth, but his head is swimming.  Scott isn’t running and hiding from kissing him, isn’t shrinking away from Jackson’s dick.  It could just be because he doesn’t want to lose this game of… whatever it is they’re doing.  It went past chicken too long ago, and neither of them is straight, anyway.

From the way Scott’s eyes have gone soft, Jackson has to actually believe that Scott is serious about this.

“No,” Scott says.  “Do you?”

“No,” Jackson says.  This wasn’t the plan, but Jackson does want it.  He wants it more than he is comfortable admitting to Scott, more than he’s even really comfortable admitting to himself.

Scott presses Jackson back against the lockers and kisses Jackson’s mouth once more.  “Turn around, then,” Scott says, and Jackson shivers as he presses his front against the cool metal of the locker, bracing himself and spreading his legs as Scott slides down to his knees between them.  

It’s almost unnerving for Jackson, being in this position.  He can feel the cool air from the locker room fans against the skin of his back, is hyperaware of the slats of the locker vents digging into his thumbs as he spreads his fingers.  He can’t see Scott, has no awareness of where Scott is, until he feels the cheeks of his ass slowly pulled apart by Scott’s warm hands.  

“You’re shaved down here.”

Jackson flushes.  “Some of us take care of our body hair,” he says pointedly, licking the skin around his lips.  It twinges; maybe he’ll have stubble burn, after all.  Maybe he’ll have stubble burn on his ass, if Scott ever actually gets on with it.

“I don’t mind hair,” Scott says.  It annoys Jackson that Scott realizes that it was for him, though not in the way Scott assumes; Jackson didn’t shave for this, for Scott down on his knees behind Jackson, but he did shave for fingering himself _thinking_  about down there.

Then, there’s a tongue pressed against Jackson’s hole, and he’s jerked back down to reality.

Jackson doesn’t think he’s ever been eaten out by anyone who enjoyed it as much.  Scott is sloppy from the start, long, flat licks with enough spit that Jackson swears he could slick a finger up to slip inside just from what Scott’s spreading around.  Scott pulls his mouth away and blows a stream of air, laughing at the way Jackson curses with his face pressed into the locker at the sudden, contrasting coolness.  

“Hurry the fuck up,” Jackson says, and Scott blows again before diving in, burying his face into Jackson’s ass and going full-tilt.  The sound of him echoes in the empty locker room, the smack of his mouth closing around the skin of Jackson’s rim and _sucking_ , making Jackson’s legs shake with the effort to keep his knees from buckling.  The gasp of breath when Scott pulls away, like he’s struggling as much as Jackson is to get air into his lungs.  

Scott doesn’t hide any of his pleasure, moaning into Jackson’s ass, the vibrations making Jackson’s skin tingle.  Sometimes, Scott even slides down, a little, mouths at the skin between Jackson’s ass and balls, licks up stray trails of precome dribbling down Jackson’s dick.  Jackson wants nothing more than to push back and ride Scott’s face, or to turn around and fuck Scott’s pretty, swollen mouth, but he doesn’t.  It would take Scott’s mouth away from his hole, away from Scott’s stubble digging into Jackson’s now-sensitive skin.

Jackson bites his lip to keep the sounds at bay, trying to breathe evenly through his nose.  But when Scott’s licks get more pointed, the hint of a promise as his tongue catches on Jackson’s rim, it makes Jackson’s breath comes sudden and sharp.  Scott picks up on Jackson’s reaction quickly, pressing more and more against the tight ring of Jackson’s hole until Jackson’s moaning just as openly as Scott.

Scott’s hands slide down to Jackson’s thighs when he finally presses inside with his tongue, and Jackson can’t take it anymore.  He flattens his upper body against the locker and takes one of his hands off, ignoring the pins and needles to wrap it around his dick and tug.  He bucks back into Scott’s mouth, drawing another muffled moan out of Scott, before he shoots come onto the locker, Scott’s hands the only things keeping him from sinking to the floor.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, letting Scott lap at his hole until he starts to get sensitive, then batting Scott away with his hand.

Jackson takes a moment to himself, his cheek pressed against the locker, his sweat making the surface sticky.  Noises filter in behind him, though, and he finally tears himself away from the afterglow to see Scott’s hand in his shorts, his whole body shuddering as he makes himself come.

When Scott realizes Jackson’s watching, he grins up at him.  “Well?”

“Passable,” Jackson says, just to be a dick.  Scott’s grin only grows, though, and Jackson gives up.

“Maybe next time I’ll be more impressed.”

**Author's Note:**

> sleepy-skittles on tumblr


End file.
